Fudgekin Oneshot
by dib07
Summary: A brief tale from 'Saving Zim.' Disclaimer inside. Cover art belongs to Weevmo! :)


**A Saving Zim Oneshot by Dib07**

 **Fudgekin**

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

An Invader ZIM oneshot

 **The image to this story is NOT MINE! It belongs to Weevmo/Mechabite. She has very kindly allowed me to use it. All credit for that image goes to her. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **AN:**

Hi there dear readers. I've written out some more madness for you to enjoy. And by madness, I mean pure insanity. The ones eagerly awaiting this no doubt are to be disappointed and I am deeply sorry. I've got a feeling that no one expected what I wrote, and what you are about to read. And I am sorry. To be honest, I had no idea it would turn out this way either. I am Dib07. What more can I say? XD Anyway, thank you to those who wanted this. Well, here it is! Just... don't judge me too harshly, okay?

A little nudge to **Anonymous** for requesting this. :)

P.S I really apologize for the swearing! Cover your eyes and ears from little green Irkens, children!

* * *

 _'When these pillars get pulled down_  
 _It will be you who wears the crown_  
 _And I'll owe everything to you_

 _How much pain has quaked your soul?_  
 _How much love would make you whole?_  
 _You're my guiding lightning strike.'_

 _I Belong to You - Muse_

* * *

 **Fudgekin**

 **Saving Zim**

Dib stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and ever so gently peeled up his shirt to reveal the deep scratch marks that ran parallel across his belly. He had received these marks almost a year ago, and the scars were fading, he supposed. But every day when he looked at them, they seemed the same. It almost looked like he had been slashed by a lynx, and not a little Irken with a temper about as mean as a hornet's. It matched the scar on his right arm, both of them war trophies.

The scratch marks in question were from something stupid, not from a glorious battle to be proud of.

Long before the wire, Zim had been caught in the rain going home from high school. He wasn't even wearing a coat, and he was half running, half walking home, sometimes shoring himself up the side of the road, waiting for the frantic traffic to pass while he stood there, his skin smoking. Dib had come up alongside him, instantly taking merriment in Zim's predicament.

"Oh! You poor baby! Is the rain gonna make you cry?"

And Zim had reciprocated in kind, slashing out at him so thickly that his claws went straight through the human's tough winter clothing to the fragile flesh beneath. It left a trio of hot burning marks that bled instantly.

While Dib stood, holding his stomach, Zim dashed out in front of the traffic, leaving him there. And, when Dib had managed to get home some fifteen minutes later, he found that not only had Zim managed to pry open the garage in the rain while getting soaked, BUT he had also gone inside and demolished Tak's ship. Everything was broken. The dashboard was in pieces, wires cut out and ripped.

It was a truly an awful, sad sight to see. And Dib had cried, realizing that his freedom to travel to the stars had now been tarnished. And without Irken hardware and tools, and the knowhow, he couldn't repair it.

Then the wire happened. Moved to malice to meet Zim's malice, he had perfected and designed his trap, hoping to murder the Irken whilst keeping his hands clean of both the mess and the struggle.

Now he was standing, looking into the bathroom mirror, letting his shirt hang loose to cover the scars.

Since the trap, Zim had effectively become a recluse. And this was no joke. The sly Irken hadn't come out of his house in nearly a year. And this was a BIG deal. Zim was still supposed to be doing his usual BS to 'take over the Earth' and do his duty, etc, etc.

Of course, the trap had been a mutual shock, having both of them leave at the other end of the debacle, and letting things rot between them. And so, Zim suddenly quit school. Quit shopping. Quit living, basically. What he did in his base, Dib had no idea. And wondered if this flimsy promise they had both made had something to do with it, or if Zim was making a huge nuclear bomb, or Mech or something to finally let loose his vengeance deep down in the catacombs of his hive.

Dib meanwhile had gone on to live his life. He had got older. Got taller. And found out there were other things to be enjoyed, besides chasing up on silly little green monsters. He found a liking for girls, alcohol, parties and of course, supernatural phenomenon. His studies weighed him down as well, grounding him to reality. Without Zim mocking him, and distracting him, Dib found that he aced in his school work and life in general. No longer the laughing stock, he finally was starting to 'fit in.'

Now it was the summer holidays, and during these long, dusty warm periods, he got bored. He wasn't the sporty type, and he tended to stay indoors, leafing through youtuber updates for any new info on his various supernatural findings, like Bigfoot, aliens, ghosts or whatever took his fancy. Haunted dolls were the thing nowadays, and he found it interesting, but not very believable. And when he was done being updated, and after publishing his latest blogs, he would lean back in his desk chair and think about Zim.

Every day, the push to go to his house got a little bit stronger and a little bit stronger still. He relented of course, a little afraid, a little daunted. What if Zim greeted him at the front door with a missile launcher? Or a meat grinding minigun? Such things he dreamed.

But, Dib was naturally curious, and after the second week of the summer holidays, he could endure it no longer.

The day was hot, the sun melting any and all cloud cover until the street below looked like it was sweating. The cars gleamed: bright with summer sun as they raced past blaring their music. Ice cream vendors were on every corner. And just recently, a fairground had opened up in Maple Park complete with rides, trinkets, candy and music. Dib loved the summer as much as he loved the cool, dark secrecy of winter. He knew Zim liked the summer too, and was less murderous when the sun was shining. In fact, especially hot days made the Irken sleepy, and quite content. But, as usual, there was never any sign of him. Gir loved going to the B&B shop: it sold all kinds of food and toys, and Zim practically walked him there every other day just to shut the robot up. But that no longer happened.

Dib turned the corner and walked up the lonely, hot cul-de-sac, his bright amber eyes trained on Zim's peculiar little house. That looked the same, except for the moss balls on the roof, and the bird poop adorning the windows.

The lawn was overgrown. Long weeds had risen up, growing around the flamingo poles. The gnomes too looked dirty and neglected, with various stains on them. A little mound of dog poo sat, stinking in the lawn where someone's dog had made its business. Usually, Zim kept his front yard immaculate. He'd be mowing the lawn using a tiny motor suited for his height, and he'd be cleaning the porch; doing the work as quickly as possible. But really his house looked like it belonged in a derelict street.

Dib did not hesitate. Hesitate, and he might forgo the whole deal. So he made himself march all the way up the dusty stone pathway to the door before he could bail. He knocked on it twice, and then rang the doorbell.

When there was no answer (as he was expecting), he opened up the letterbox and shouted into it. "Hey! Zim! It's me! Dib! I'm not here for a fight!"

He waited, burning in the sun.

He couldn't really look _into_ the letterbox. So he peered round to look in through the ground floor window. The windows had been boarded up from inside, offering no clues as to what lay within.

Dib knocked again. "Hey! Zim! Hello? Are you home?" A part of him, a small part, believed Zim may be in the living room, listening. Or he could be laying face down, dead somewhere, or he was gone. Just gone. Leaving the house as a useless, sad empty shell.

Then Dib decided to play a little trick: a bit of reverse psychology. It was the only way to prove if Zim was actually there or if he'd really packed up and left.

"Zim? Are you not answering because you've given up? Hiding away, like a little, scared coward? Is... is that it?"

There was no rebound, no response, and Dib wilted where he stood, believing that Zim had left. And that was just awful. It was a reality Dib never wanted. Zim was exciting: and pushed Dib on with his many tireless challenges. Life would be boring without him.

Then a croaky voice emanated from within, giving Dib that nostalgia he was seeking.

"I assure you, that is NOT the reason."

Dib felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and nervous tingles raced down his spine. So he was there! Had been there! Listening on the other side of the door! Well, the game was up now!

"Zim? What are you doing, hiding? Open the door." But the door did not open. "Look, I don't have a gun or anything! I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanna talk."

"Talk?" Zim's voice sounded slightly muffled through the wood of the door, but his words still carried with cold clarity. "I'm already done with it. Go away."

"But I won't go away! It's been months since I saw you last! A year! What are you doing in there? Are you sick? Or are you... I dunno? Planning something new and horrible?"

There was no answer this time.

"Zim!" Dib laboured, knocking almost aggressively on his door. "Come on out! Why this silence?"

"Go away you nasty creature!" Came a squeaky reprisal from within. "I don't want to look at you! There! Is that enough of a reason? Go bullfuck yourself!"

"Excuse me? Bullfuck?"

"You heard me pig smell!"

Dib leaned against the door. He tried the handle, but as he had suspected, it was locked. No doubt Zim had barricaded the door with about every lock and padlock imaginable. "Zim. You shouldn't swear. And bullfuck isn't even a word. If you wanna swear, you gotta do it right."

He could hear him groan through the door. "I'm done! Get lost before I set Gir on you."

"Why won't you see me?" Dib asked, his voice mellowing. "You're not scared, are you?"

"Me, scared?" Now he sounded really agitated. "I'm never scared of you, BOY! If you hadn't have started crying and whimpering, unable to go through with it, I might have dropped a bomb on your fat head!"

Dib took a moment to process what Zim meant. Was he talking about... the wire? Was that the reason he had barricaded himself indoors?

No, that couldn't be the reason. They had both taken hits before. Some just as nasty. And Zim had never reacted this way. Zim held grudges, sure, but he didn't let one thing demoralize him. Unless...

"Zim! I'm sorry, okay?"

"Your apologies mean nothing to me. Go home and cry."

Dib realized his attempts weren't going anywhere. He had to think of something else before Zim lost interest.

"There's... there's a fairground that's just opened up! It's barely a mile away! Have you ever tried cotton candy, Zim? It's really, really good. Its sugar, only it's like silk. They have ice cream too, and donuts. I'll... buy anything you want. Just... open the door."

"I... I can't."

This strangely timid response tripped Dib up. His bribery to get him to break free from the charade was... sort of working, but in a surprising way. "What do you mean; you can't?"

"I... I just CAN'T!"

Dib suddenly surmised that Zim's shouting, (usually quite explosive anyway), seemed louder somehow.

"Why? Can't you open the door? Have you jammed it somehow?"

"It's not that. I just can't! ALL RIGHT? Now please go away!" This last entreaty sounded almost... sad, and it had a touch of keen desperation to it.

"You want to hide forever? Is... is that it? For what reason?" Dib pressed his ear to the door for a reply, but none were forthcoming. He got angry. "Who the hell doesn't want free ice cream and donuts? Unless I'm speaking to an imposter? I want to talk to the real Zim! The one who doesn't hide and cower away! Where is he? I want to talk to him right now! Not this charlatan!"

Dib was out of cards now, out of ammunition. He had played his last ace. He didn't know what else to try and get Zim to open up, unless he started setting demolition charges.

But as he stood there, feeling beaten, he heard the locks and bolts being drawn back in their slots from within. And he got scared. What would he find? What would he see? Zim harnessing a minigun? Gir with an armload of grenades?

So he backed away a few steps.

When the door finally clicked open, and was pulled inwards, what was revealed shocked him more so.

Zim was, and had never been standing up. He was in the Irken equivalent of a wheelchair that sported no wheels, but energy fields that made the little purple chair hover one foot from the floor. Now it dawned on him why Zim had been so reluctant to open the door.

Dib's eyes hastily flicked over to his legs, suspecting some broken bones, a cast, or amputation. But in actuality, Zim looked fine. He looked pretty angry, with that dark glare in his bright red eyes, but physically there was nothing wrong with him. At all.

Zim, using remote control on the armrest, backed his Irken chair slightly to either allow Dib room to go in, or else it was a defensive 'don't come near me' tactic.

Dib stepped inside regardless, closing the door as Zim wasn't wearing his disguise.

The room looked exactly the same, and was still really, really clean, which was a relief. The neglect outside now reflected Zim's dislike of going outdoors. But the floor was spotless, the sofa clean and tidy, and the place smelt of disinfectant and strawberries.

Gir was on the sofa, eating peanuts. He waved at Dib pleasantly. "Hiya Dib! Wanna join us? The pig show is on! They be delivering pink babies!"

"Dib. Take off your shoes. They're filthy." Zim admonished, looking him over as if Dib had just stepped in from a radioactive wasteland. To Zim, he had.

"O...kay." Dib untied his laces and shrugged off his boots. It felt weird standing in Zim's base, in his socks.

"You've grown." Zim bitterly insinuated, making it sound like a jealous insult, than a compliment.

"Um. Thanks. And how have you been?" He felt so uncomfortable. And Zim was inspecting him, like a father would laconically inspect a dirty child who'd been playing in mud.

"Fine. Just fucking fine." Zim sounded... darker. More sinister, as if he'd been feasting on his own hatred. "Now you've seen me. Are you satisfied, human?"

"I... I guess." He was pleased to see that Zim looked the same while he had matured and grown: shrugging off his childhood as every teenager did without realizing it. "Urm... you're in a... chair."

"Yes. Helps me get around." Zim sniped immediately, his response rehearsed: Dib noticed. "Anyway, I'd like you to leave. You aren't welcome."

"Zim, I didn't come here to mock you, or anything like that. I honestly want to take you to the fairground."

The Elite rested his cheek on his claws: his elbow leaning on the armrest of his hovering chair. "Why?"

Dib shrugged. "Things have changed, Zim. I'm not a little kid anymore. I'm past all this." And he vaguely gestured at Zim and the living room as if he was insinuating the base as well. "I'm done with the wars. The games."

"You are not DONE with it!" And, in his trigger-happy burst of anger, Zim slammed his fist down on his armrest: accidently hitting the buttons. The chair propelled him rearward and then abruptly tipped completely forwards, causing Zim to spill out of the chair and onto the carpet in a heap.

Gir was clapping. "Dew it again! Dew it again!" He was saying.

"Curse that chair!" Zim sat up, looking a little dumbfounded from the violent transition. The chair had skirted towards the TV, a little out of reach. In his startled confusion, his antenna reared upwards, but his left one remained at a crooked, strange angle that did not move. When Zim turned to see where the chair had gone, Dib clearly saw the damage he had wrought.

Zim's left antenna: the one caught in the trap, was in tatters. It hung, split down the middle, and crumpled nearer the base, some of it missing. It was a nasty injury.

The puzzle pieces were starting to come together, and Dib wasn't sure if he wanted to see the whole picture.

"Gir!" Zim squawked, looking to his child for 'assistance.' "Bring me my chair at once!"

Gir saluted, then hopped off the sofa and went over to it. Then he got in the chair, and started playing with the buttons, making the chair do strange flips in the air.

"Gir!" Zim cried again, sounding really mad. "Listen to me!"

Dib just stood there, wondering if he should just make a quiet exit when Zim's eyes stole over to his. Even on the floor, smaller than the human remembered him to be, Zim still had that arresting appeal: that kingly authority that you just couldn't ignore.

"Dib, will you please leave? Grab your shoes and eat them for all I care. Just go."

But Dib found himself stepping forwards until he was kneeling dangerously close to the angry Irken. "Why do you need that chair? You can walk, can't you?"

"Of course I can!" Zim spat, showing his teeth. And, low and behold, he actually stood up. "See?" And he spread his arms wide, highlighting his point.

Dib remained kneeling. He wasn't convinced. Being a teenager slowly entering the stage of a young adult had taught him more about the world. And he knew Zim well enough to sniff out the lie. "Go on then. Walk to the door and then back to me. Should be easy, right?"

Zim scowled, as if the challenge was a mockery in disguise. "I don't have to listen to you." But he did go to the front door and back to Dib again, by using his PAK legs alone.

"You cheated." Dib said.

"I did not. I did as you asked." He replied curtly, folding his arms proudly and standing firm on the carpet, his PAK legs shunting back away into the strange machine on his spine.

As Gir came over with the chair, Dib got up, grabbed the chair himself, and pushed it away from Zim to the far end of the room. "If you want it," he said, "try and take it from me. Without your weird, spidery legs."

Gir giggled, still sitting on the seat. "I love games!" He said as if he was auditioned for a part in this psychological battle.

Zim looked even angrier. So much so, he was shaking. His head was dipped low, his eyes staring at Dib with malice. "You dare come in here, and demand things of me?" He growled in the back of his throat.

Dib leaned against the hovering chair, not the least bit daunted. "I'm not asking a lot, Zim."

"Yes, you are."

Now the truth was unfolding, and Dib straightened, looking at him as if for the first time.

Zim took a ginger step forwards, and the another. But he started to angle too far to the left, as if his compass was broken. He managed another step, and then another, all in the wrong direction. Then he seemed to slip on some invisible bump on the carpet, and fell over. Dib looked to Gir, who had stopped giggling. He looked sad, as if the loyal robot had witnessed this many a time, and was heartbroken by each new display.

Zim shored himself up again, correcting his course before finding his feet. The look of determination on his countenance was fierce. But, for all his effort, after another two steps going the wrong way, he fell on his side.

Dib had seen enough. He would not torture his enemy any longer. So he pushed the chair forwards until it was right by Zim's side.

Zim silently pulled himself up until he was sitting in the seat with Gir.

"I can walk." He said, as if that was the long and the short of it.

Dib shook his head. "No, you can't. Stop lying to me. Did you hit your head? Hurt your leg? Is that why you won't go outside?"

"It's because of you." Zim answered with a bitter croak, his eyes narrowed.

"Me?"

Zim touched his left antenna. "I've lost my balance. You never could understand the value of an Irken's antennae. You're too stupid and blind. They work a lot like human eardrums. They work my equilibrium. My hearing. My sensory glands. Now... now I'm fucking deaf!" He was about to slam down on the buttons again, then stopped, realizing his mistake. So he cowered where he sat, squeezing his eyes shut as if he was clamping down on forthcoming emotions he might not be able to control.

"All this time, you've been... struggling? Because of me?" Dib asked, blighted by what he'd done. All this time, he had been ignorant, while Zim tried to endure the damage. "Oh... Jesus."

Zim peered up at him. He had retaken the reins and was fully in control of his emotions again. "I don't want your ugly pity, human. Not one piece! And take back your childish promise! I don't want it. I shouldn't have made it either."

"You remembered the promise?"

"Of course."

Dib was bewildered. Zim had adhered to it? Maybe due to his militarism, he was loyal to some degree on orders, and oaths. Because a soldier that held no value to anything was no soldier at all.

Had he finally found Zim's weakness?

"No. I'm not taking it back." Dib said. "You made oaths as a soldier, right? You can't go and take _them_ back."

"I can still destroy Earth." Zim stipulated. "It is mine TO destroy."

"Not by harming me, you can't."

Zim looked away, clearly upset.

Dib sighed. "I'm taking you to the fairground. It's a lovely day out there, and staying in here is not helping your mood. You've been sulking, and I've about had enough."

"To your stupid fairground, in this chair?" Zim asked.

"No. You can sit atop my shoulders."

"Urgh! You mean I'd have to fucking touch you? No thanks."

"Zim, I'm not having you sit here. Get your disguise on."

Zim snarled. Taking orders from a human was insulting. But Dib had already opened the front door and was returning for him. "No! It's too soon! I can't! The humans! They'll stare! Dirty streets! Noise! Pollution!"

"Stop griping."

Gir gave Zim his disguise. The Irken put it on angrily, snarling all the while as if he was about to suffer something heinous. With the wig and contacts adjusted, he slipped off the chair and was about to make a jerky step forwards when Dib picked him up and deposited him on his shoulders. Zim had suddenly gained access to height, making him feel dizzy. His claws latched hard onto Dib's hair, causing the human to flinch and yell at him until he loosened his grip, instead hooking his bony arms around his neck for support; frightened of falling.

"Just relax, butterball. I owe you some fun, don't you think. Come on. While the sun's shining."

"B-Butterball? Did you just call me butterball? You are a fucking fool!"

Dib stepped out through the front door, remembering to duck before Zim could feel the top of the doorway across his chest. Then he closed the door and they were both swimming in hot sunshine. The flowers were in full bloom, and the sky was a lurid, hot, dry blue that was low and empty of birds. Zim at once softened, enthralled by the heat.

"You know Zim," Dib said as he began to walk down the street, his hands holding onto Zim's little boots that dangled down his shoulders, "swearing doesn't suit you. You picked it up quickly, by the idiots in school. Try saying something else instead. Like sugar instead of shit, or fudge instead of fuck."

"Fudge? What has 'fudge' got to do with anything?"

"Just try saying it for a change. Or I'll start... calling you a fudgy kins or something."

"You had better NOT! Riding you is bad enough! Your hair smells of... of.."

"Gel. Gel and soap."

"Urgh!"

They got to the fairground, and it was busy. There were kids running around, having a good time. Many were walking with hotdogs in their hands, or ice cream. The fairground rides were all working, filling the hot air with laughter or girlish screaming.

There was a Ferris wheel, a rodeo with spinning carriages ablaze with multicoloured lights; a tea cup ride, a massive galleon that swung to and fro and a mini roller coaster overshadowed by penny slot machines, vendors and play-shooting galleries. Even bumper cars, and darts.

Zim was looking everywhere, suffering sensory overload after ostracizing himself away for so long.

Dib strode into the crowd, positively surrounded on all sides by people. The smells of cotton candy, horse manure, fresh barely, beer and soda was everywhere. Zim was sickened at the amount of litter people were leaving behind.

"Wanna hop on a ride?" Dib asked.

Zim, having a perfect vantage point, looked around, and pointed at the rodeo: the fastest, most violent ride out of all the rides.

"Uh, no, not that one. If you've lost your balance, it'll only make you sick. How about the roller coaster?" Which of course was more like sitting on a steady conveyor belt with no twists or loops.

"But that's for smeets." Zim said, kicking Dib as if he was a horse and he wanted him to go faster.

"The galleon?"

"Eh. If I wanted a fucking ride, I'd get in the Voot."

Dib went to the vendors, picking out whatever Zim wanted. In the end, they came away with bags of cotton candy, a box of toffee fudge and ice cream. Zim sat on the bench, devouring the cotton candy for the first time in his life. He couldn't get enough of it. He was practically snorting it up as if it was crack cocaine. He was so busy with it, that he forgot about the marauding humans for a few moments. Dib sat back with his ice cream, watching Zim get messy with the cotton candy.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Zim's presence. Once you got past the hate, realizing that Earth was in no real danger any time soon, Dib was able to see a part of Zim he never knew, and didn't expect to find. Both a pair of outcasts, they would otherwise have made a good team. Zim of course had yet to see Dib in that same light, and scowled and snarled whenever Dib said something he didn't approve of, or went to help him stand. Zim was still clearly full of hatred, and wasn't ready to move on quite so soon. If he ever could. But coming out with Dib, and sitting on his shoulders was a good start.

On stage, about forty yards away, were a group of fire dancers. They were waving sticks around, playing with the fire as if it meant nothing to them.

To their left was one of those fake climbing cliffs where you could wear climbing gear, and behind them was open grassland.

When there was no more cotton candy left, Zim hunted through the paper bag for anything left, and found the little white box of toffee fudge portions. He opened them up, sniffing them suspiciously. Dib grabbed one while Zim was taking forever, and ate it.

"Hey! Fuck you! These are mine!"

"Jesus, Zim. I can buy more. Don't have a paddy."

Zim took one, and chewed on the edge of the cube of fudge apprehensively as if it was going to hurt him, and after being allergic and overly sensitive to most manmade products, Dib couldn't blame him for being wary. When there were no ill effects, and, warmed by its great taste, Zim scoffed the lot as if he hadn't eaten properly for weeks.

"So you like the fudge now? Fudgey kins?"

Zim looked about ready to punch him. His mouth was covered in sticky toffee.

Dib just laughed. The alien looked ridiculous.

Just then someone screamed.

Before Dib had time to see what was going on, a stick of fire was cartwheeling towards him from the stage of the fire dancers. He didn't move, he just sat there on the bench, paralyzed as he watched this flaming fireball catapult his way, thinking that surely it wouldn't hit him, surely this was just surreal and not happening. Not to him. Not now.

"Idiot weasel!" Zim slammed into him, causing his stiff body to swing out of the bench. The fireball hit the bench where he had just been, and due to the heat, the whole bench went up instantly, a curtain of smoke shadowing the flickering embers. People were screaming, and running amok.

Dib sat on the grass, watching the bench become tinder for the flames.

Had Zim just... rescued him? The very idea resonated dully, with barely any recognition, because it was so unlikely. Why would Zim stop and think about a human, even for a moment? Especially when that certain human being was his greatest adversary?

If that fireball had hit him, depending on where it landed, he would have got burnt for life, and possibly been consumed by it, and all fire sticks were greased in oiled rags to keep them burning for the dancers on stage. It must have been thrown by accident.

Zim grabbed his arm and hauled Dib to his feet. "Wake up, Dib worm! Animals run from fire, so why aren't you?"

Dib blinked, and stared through the smoke at Zim whose face was still sticky from cotton candy and fudge.

"You... you..."

"I pushed you." Zim ended for him. "Like pushing a stubborn cow from its pen. Or trying to. Get up!"

Dib did so, feeling surreal. The fire was gathering energy and power, and its flames darted onto the grass, spreading its deadly aura. From his PAK, Zim extracted a funnel and by pressing a button, the funnel exhaled cold gas that reminded Dib of nitrogen. It blasted the hot gathering flames into a quiet, cold silence. When the last spark was conquered, Zim hid away the funnel back into his PAK. "Useful. Prevents fires from breaking out back in my base." He attested proudly. Then he swiped at the smoky air with his claws, and started coughing. The fumes lay heavily across the grass, smothering the dropped toys and candy wrappers the public had dropped.

Dib picked him up and carried him out of the gassy smoke. And even then, Zim carried on coughing.

In the distance they would hear the signature wail of the fire engines on their way. The fanciful music being blasted from the speakers was quickly drowned out by these new sirens.

The fire dancers were leaving the stage, dipping their fiery sticks into buckets of water to extinguish them. Park wardens were now arriving on the scene, and directing the customers out of the park.

Back on Dib's shoulders, Zim watched the proceedings as the authorities swamped the area: an area that was already controlled.

Dib was heading back through the main gates, done with the whole affair.

"Nice trick you used." The human said. "You saved the park a lot of damage. Maybe even saved lives before that fire got out of control. Which is strange. Aren't you supposed to be the villain?"

"You were in the way. Had you been far, far away, I would have let the park burn." Zim replied. And it had not been the answer Dib was expecting.

"Wait? I was in the way?"

"That is correct, Dib worm. Next time I'll fucking spell it out for you."

"Right you are fudgekins."

"Stop with the name! It's disgusting! Call your Gaz sister that! Or... or cuddly toys! Not ZIM! I'll cut my name into your BIG head if I have to!"

"Yeah, yeah." Dib said with a smile.

"Don't 'yeah yeah' me!"

"Making you angry is just the ticket to get you walking again. And by god we'll get there."

"Eh, fuck you!"

"You don't even know what that means. If you did, you wouldn't say it. Anyway, let's enjoy this sunshine while it lasts. You never know when the weather's going to turn bad, Fudgekin."

Sadly, for the rest of Zim's life, he was eternally plagued by that very nickname.

And Dib took him home.

That day ended, but it had started something else. Something new.

Something that would later shape them, for the battles to come.

* * *

 **Dib07:** So there you have it! A bit more in their history pool/databanks, whatever lol. Hope you enjoyed that! It might not be what you were expecting, I do realize that. If this oneshot is successful, I MIGHT do others, but eh... I might not. Anyways, love, review this crap if you want! I'm going to bed nows! Gonna take Fudgekins to bed too! (I call my Zim plush that all the time now. It's a curse.)


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